Chapter Text
The Herald of Andraste had been in the Hinterlands for barely a day when it occurred to her that she was traveling with complete strangers. Between the chaos caused by the explosion at the Conclave, fighting to prove her innocence, and trying to cobble together some kind of plan with which to move forward, she hadn’t really taken the time to process the fact that she had been entrusting her life to people she didn’t know at all, and would-presumably-be continuing to do so for the foreseeable future. Sure, she knew her traveling companions’ names and some basic info about them, but, otherwise, she had little in the way of connection to them.
Seeing as she was most likely going to be spending quite some time in the coming days, weeks, and possibly even months relying on them, she decided it was time to make an effort to do something about that.
While trudging along one of the Hinterlands’ trails, Lavellan took the opportunity to fall into step (or as much as an elf can fall into step with a dwarf) alongside Varric. Out of her three companions, Varric had made himself off to be the most approachable, having even made an effort himself to chat with her back in Haven. This made him the reasonable choice for her first attempt to make friends with her new traveling companions.
“So, Varric, I’m curious, how does a renowned author such as yourself wind up caught up in the middle of all of this? Being held on lockdown by Cassandra, no less?”
The opportunity to talk about himself drew Varric’s immediate interest. Donning his trademark charming grin, he shrugged, “Well, Herald, any good author knows: to get the best material, you’ve gotta go where the action is.”
Lavellan could tell this wasn’t the whole truth, but he didn’t seem like he was going to be any more forthcoming currently and she was happy to let him have his fun for the time being. “Is that so? So, you thought the best way to get material for your next book was to throw yourself into life-threatening peril and hope you lived to write about it?”
“Hey, it’s worked out for me once before, who says it won’t work out again?” he chuckled.
“Right. The ‘Tale of the Champion’,” she nodded. “That book you wrote on Hawke; I remember it.”
Varric’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you’ve read it? Wow, I had no idea it had reached all the way out to the Dalish clans.
“Not necessarily,” she shrugged. “We were trading for supplies with a traveling merchant and he kept going on and on about this book that everyone in Thedas was reading and how it was based off of true events. Eventually, I traded a nice pelt to him for a copy just so he’d stop talking about it. If anything, it just made him talk about it more. It was a good read; although, I admit I have some questions about some of the ‘true events’.”
He waved her off with a hand, “You and a hundred other people. Everybody’s a critic.” Brightening some, he leaned in and cocked an eyebrow. “So, does this mean the Herald of Andraste is a fan of my work?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” she scoffed. “I’ve only read the one, to be honest. Actually, I’m not even sure what kinds of books you write. Are they all ‘based on true events’? Or do you write other types of books too?”
“I write crime novels, mostly. I’ve got a series called Hard in Hightown. I’m sure I’ve got a copy somewhere I can lend you, if you’re interested. I’ve branched out a bit now and then. A bit of romance, too.”
Up ahead of them, Lavellan caught Casandra turn and look at them over her shoulder before quickly turning back to the road ahead. Filing this odd reaction away for later, she returned her attention to Varric. ”Romance, huh? I wouldn’t have taken you for that kind of author.”
Seeming suddenly abnormally sheepish, he shrugged, “Ah, well, it wasn’t really my strong suit. They were probably my worst selling novels. Plus, they were kinda…”
“Bad?” When he didn’t react, she guessed, “…graphic?” This made him shrug deeper and pulled a laugh from Lavellan. “Well, that certainly wasn’t what I expected.”
Varric made as though he was going to reply, but before he could, their party crested a rise they had been climbing and Lavellan spotted a small hut that looked as though it had seen better days since the mages and templars had brought their conflict to the region. Pointing it out, she called up to where Solas and Cassandra walked ahead of them.
“We should take a quick look in there, see if we can’t find anything left behind that the people down at the Crossroads could use.”
In a silent consensus, the other three turned and headed cautiously up towards the house, on alert for and mages or templars who may be lingering just out of sight.
When the group reached the small hut, they wordlessly split into pairs to investigate the hut’s two separate rooms. Lavellan and Varric stayed in the front room while Cassandra and Solas ventured into the back. The hut was a mess; the occupants had clearly either left in a great hurry, or had done so not of their own volition.
Lavellan examined the cover of a book that had been discarded haphazardly onto a desk. “Hm. ‘The Lusty Antivan Handmaid’. Is this one of yours, Varric?” she called, casting a wry smile in the dwarf’s direction.
“Very funny, Herald,” he replied. He was preoccupied with nudging old crates and various debris aside with his foot, looking for anything of value that may have been hidden underneath.
Not one to shy away from mischief, Lavellan called back, “Are you sure? I think they’re a fan.” She picked up the book between thumb and forefinger by the cover and dangled it in the air. “It’s a bit… sticky,” she laughed. “You should autograph it for them. Here, catch!”
Before Varric could reply, the rogue launched the book across the room towards him with remarkable accuracy, a shout of laughter and fluttering pages following behind it.
“Agh! Nasty,” he shouted, ducking the tainted projectile. Despite the annoyance in his voice, a large smile betrayed his amusement. “You know, Trouble, for the blessed hero sent by Andraste herself to save us all, you sure can be a pain in the ass when you want to be.”
Lavellan simply continued to laugh. “Oh please, Varric. You think it’s funny. You’re not even hiding it.”
As if in unspoken agreement, Varric’s smile grew wider and he let out a belt of laughter himself. Waving a dismissive hand in her direction he relented, “Yeah, yeah, sure, you’re hilarious, Herald. But for the record, even I wouldn’t write something that smutty. I do have some standards.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
At this, Cassandra emerged from the other room with Solas not far behind her. Rolling her eyes at the Herald and the dwarf’s antics, she cleared her throat to get their attention and held out a handful of dried elfroot and a small poultice. “These are the only things of value Solas and I were able to find. I do not think it will be much help for the people in the Crossroads, but I suppose anything will help. I think perhaps we should continue on, Herald.”
Lavellan nodded and turned towards the door of the hut. On her way out, she felt a slight kick to her ankle, tripping her just slightly. Casting her eyes to her side, she spotted Varric walking next to her, a subtle grin plastered on his face. She returned with a light kick of her own to his backside, causing him to stumble forward himself. He recovered quickly and continued walking, but let out a quiet snicker as he did so.
As they continued on, Lavellan allowed herself a satisfied smile. At least now she knew she would have one friend going forward.